


Driving

by goddessofcruelty



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Everyone is Dead, Happy Ending, M/M, Mild Gore, Road Trip, Wedding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-05
Updated: 2014-04-05
Packaged: 2018-01-18 06:35:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1418552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goddessofcruelty/pseuds/goddessofcruelty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles sighs. “We can leave or we can die.” He turns and continues up the stairs, pausing in his bedroom doorway. “Either way, we'll do it side by side." Derek spends all night thinking about Stiles dying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Driving

“We need to leave.”  Stiles is pressing a folded up towel to Derek's stomach, to hold it together until he can start to heal.

“Where are we going to go, Stiles?” Derek is stitching up the human's shoulder.

Abruptly, his lips twitch in something that once would have resolved into amusement. Derek could remember when Stiles was terrified of needles.

That was a lifetime ago.

 

Derek douses the slash in antiseptic, before wrapping a clean bandage best he can around Stiles' upper arm. He glances down and nods. “It's healing.”

Stiles smoothly draws back, taking the bloodied towel to the sink where there's a pile of others, and filling the basin with hot water and bleach.

“Any place is better,” he says softly.

Derek glances at his stomach and then stretches out on his back on the floor of the living room. “Beacon Hills is home.”

He watches Stiles' fluid, economical movements, remembering the spastic teenager.  Derek blinks and looks away. You'd think he'd get numb to it all. And yet he clings to Beacon Hills like it has something to offer besides death and loss.

Stiles' only answer is a snort as he bleaches the blood out of fabric. Its a daily task for him.

 _The Sheriff would hate to see what we made of the house he built for his family_ , Derek thinks, looking around. Anything of sentimental value had been boxed up by Lydia after his funeral and locked in the spare room that still held Mrs. Stilinski's personal affects, in much the same state. The walls had been damaged by claws and mountain ash additions. A permanent layer of ash and salt and powdered silver lay in front of every ingress. The protective combination of substances was another gift from Lydia before she'd left.

Neither Derek or Stiles blames her for leaving.

Jackson left her for Europe. Her best friend was killed, while Lydia herself was terrorized by a doppleganger of Stiles. Being alone in the forest in the middle of the night, holding her fiance, Scott, while he bled out was the final straw. They haven't heard from her since Scott's funeral. Isaac had vanished with Chris Argent after Allison's.

Derek occasionally wonders if his former beta was still alive and well. He doesn't even know what happened to Ethan after Aiden died.

Or Peter. Though Derek assumes that Peter is still alive. Or undead. Or whatever you'd call him.

 

“Zombie?”

Derek blinks up at Stiles, startled.

“You had that pinched look you get when you're thinking about Uncle Back-from-the-dead.”

“He's out there somewhere.”

“Yeah, yeah, because you didn't get the Alpha powers. I know. We've had this conversation. I think if he'd gotten it, he would've come back for you.”

Derek grumbles and grabs a protein bar from the box on the counter. They'd long since given up on bothering with cooking or cleaning.

“I'm still a beta.”

Stiles shrugs. “Maybe I'm all the pack you need. It worked for Scott when he was a beta.”

Derek is silent and Stiles pulls out his beat up old laptop and starts typing.

“What are you doing?”

Stiles doesn't look up. “Updating the bestiary. We learned that electricity doesn't work against were-bears. And neither does wolfsbane.”

Derek closes the laptop.  "Stiles, there's no one to update it for.”

Stiles jerks his hands back and crosses his arms over his chest, eyes narrowing. “What the hell else am I supposed to do?” He runs a hand through his hair, too long now. He should cut it.

“I don't know, Stiles.”

The human pushes off the torn up couch and heads for his bedroom.

Derek watches him a moment. “I have to protect my territory.” 

Stiles turns on the stairs. “If I recall correctly, the only territory you _have_ is this piece of shit house. And technically, it's mine.”

Derek clenches his jaw and looks away.

Stiles sighs. “We can leave or we can die.”

He turns and continues up the stairs, pausing in his bedroom doorway. “Either way, we'll do it side by side.”

Derek spends all night thinking about Stiles dying.

-

They leave.

Before they go, they pack up the Camaro with anything useful. Everything else they burn. They watch for a few minutes as the flames catch, watch as the last of their former life in Beacon Hills turns to ash.

It's barely an hour before Stiles gets twitchy.

“C'mon, Derek, they have this exhibit called Tentacles: The Astounding Lives of Octopuses, Squid and Cuttlefishes!”

He's reading from a guidebook.

“Where did you even get that?”

Stiles suddenly looks wide eyed and innocent. “They had these at the gas station.”

Derek hears what he isn't saying. “You _stole_ a guidebook?”

Stiles shakes his head. “I borrowed it. I'll give it back the next time I pass through.”

Derek sighs. “I would have given you money for it.”

Stiles grins, irrepressible. “This was more fun.”

-

They go to the Aquarium. Derek insists on paying. Stiles rolls his eyes.

They don't talk about Beacon Hills, or werewolves, or death.

There's a moment where they see a lizard that remind them both of Jackson's kanima days, and their eyes meet with an air of sadness.

They look away and move on.

Stiles insists on eating at the overpriced cafe, almost gleeful at the ridiculous names of the dishes. Derek hasn't seen him like this in years. He buys Stiles everything he wants.

Including a lizard plushie that he (of course) names Jackson. This time, remembering doesn't hurt as much.

They stop late at an out of the way motel. There's only one room available. Stiles eyes Derek as they step inside to see one full size bed. Derek shrugs and melts into a wolf.

Stiles remembers Derek's struggle with full wolf form. He also remembers the context under which Derek had finally achieved it. It hadn't been enough to save Scott.

Stiles heads to the shower. When he gets out, the big, bad wolf is drooling on the pillows.

“Bad dog.” Stiles tugs the pillow out from underneath the sleeping wolf and beats him with it. Derek jumps up and snarls. Stiles freezes a second and then throws the pillow at the wolf's head.

He ducks to the side, intending on claiming the bed for himself, but Derek is too quick and leaps, pinning Stiles to the floor. Stiles wriggles until Derek makes a low growling noise.

He freezes, eyes wide, and then Derek swipes his tongue across Stiles' face.

“Ew, bad wolf.” Stiles flails and scrubs at his face as Derek withdraws, curling up once again on the bed. He looks smug.

Stiles mutters and makes a point of washing his face, before he climbs into the bed. He pushes ineffectively at Derek, and then lays on his side, facing away.

When they wake in the morning, Derek is curled into a ball, nose tucked under his tail, and Stiles is snuggling him like a giant teddy bear.

Stiles takes a picture.

-

Their days resolve into a pattern. They go wherever Stiles' whimsy takes them during the day, and share a motel room at night.

They go wine tasting and spend three days at the ocean. They see Yosemite and the redwood forest. Derek balks at visiting Alcatraz. Turns out wolves don't like boats.

-

It mid-winter when Derek forgets to change. Exhausted from a day spent skiing, well - Stiles spent it falling, he drops into bed when they get in, and falls asleep. Stiles hesitates when he comes out of the bathroom, then shrugs and climbs in like he usually does.

-

It's a year since they left Beacon Hills, since things have stopped trying to kill them, since they've stopped surviving and started _living_.

Derek takes Stiles to Vegas to celebrate. He gets one of those ridiculous themed hotel rooms. Stiles just boggles at the animal prints _everywhere_.

“It was called the Safari Suite. You liked the african animals at the zoo, so...”

Stiles can't help it, he throws back his head and _laughs_. Derek hasn't seen him laugh like that since before Allison died. He feels a swell of emotion and without thinking, he pulls Stiles into a kiss. Stiles eyes fly wide open, and then slowly slide closed. He throws his arms around Derek and clings to him for dear life as they stand in the middle of this absurd room, with the door still open.

Someone clears their throat in the doorway. They break apart, Stiles is blushing furiously. There's a guy from the front office, with a cart. “Newlyweds, eh,” he says as he wheels in the dinner Derek had ordered. The guy settles a bottle of champagne in a bucket of ice and looks up. “Will there be anything else?” Derek sends him away with a good sized tip.

Stiles is snickering on the bed. Until he suddenly sits up and eyes Derek. Derek narrows his eyes. “Whatever it is, no.”

He pours himself some champagne. Stiles leans back on his elbows and watches the werewolf. “So you don't want to get married by Elvis?”

Derek starts in surprise, and crushes the glass in his hands. “You want to get _married_?”

“We're pretty much married already. Except for the sex. Which I never thought you liked dudes before but yeah. You totally kissed me.” He waggles his brows in a way that would make Derek facepalm if he didn't have shards of glass embedded in his hand. “So we can totally do the sex thing.”

Derek watches himself bleed. “It's never been about gender for me.”

Stiles just now realizes that Derek is bleeding and digs out the first aid kit that they've never stopped carrying. He grabs the hand and starts pulling glass pieces free.

“I like..who people are, not what they are.” Derek furrows a brow as Stiles races his supernatural healing. “It doesn't really make sense, but then what in my life ever has?”

Stiles shrugs, then chews at his lower lip as he has to cut Derek open to dig out the last couple shards.

“Ha, got it.” He drops the pieces in the garbage. “Doesn't really matter, does it?” He looks up into Derek's hazel eyes. “Because it's been you for a long time, Derek. For me, I mean. No one else has ever gotten under my skin like you have.”

He douses the hand with disinfectant and wraps gauze around it to hold until Derek's done healing. “So, yeah, lets get married. Why not?”

So they get married. But not by Elvis.

Stiles finds a superhero themed chapel. Derek has to listen to a dissertation on why Marvel is superior to DC. He doesn't mind, just recalls all the times that Stiles had to give these speeches on things that were trying to kill them.

He refuses to wear the costume, but he does marry Stiles dressed in a Hulk t-shirt. Derek doesn't make the mistake of asking why Stiles picks that out for him. He's seen the movies (Stiles made him rent them all one very long weekend in February). Enormous rage monster. It fits.

He's also not surprised when Stiles chooses Iron Man.

Captain America officiates. Derek watches Stiles ogle the guy. He certainly fits the costume.

They choose not to purchase rings.

-

Derek carries Stiles across the threshold of their Safari Suite doorway. This time he remembers to close the door after putting the Do Not Disturb sign up.

He tosses Stiles onto the bed and follows, climbing on top of him, and kissing him breathless.

“Happy wedding day, Mr. Hale-Stilinski.”

Stiles nips at Derek's lower lip. “Mm, I think the Stilinski is first.”

Derek smirks. “I switched it when you were...distracted.”

Stiles narrows his eyes, “Distracted? By...? Oh.” He flushes as he recalls Captain America bending over to pick up the pen.

“Serves you right.” Derek nips at Stiles' neck, and then flicks out a claw to slice the novelty shirt off his husband. Stiles protests, but can't deny how fucking _hot_ that was.

Derek shreds the rest of the human's clothing, and then takes what seems like _years_ exploring his body, leaving marks everywhere. “Jesus, Derek,” Stiles mutters and Derek flashes his blue beta eyes at Stiles.

“Mine.”

Stiles takes a quick, deep breath as that goes straight to his groin, and he arches his hips up into Derek.

Derek takes the hint and shifts downward, kissing and licking and marking, all the way down until his mouth closes around Stiles's very interested cock. Stiles jerks as he feels the hot, wet heat and moans aloud into the dark room.

Derek rests his hands on Stiles' hips, claws just pricking the skin lightly. Stiles is very vocal, just as Derek had assumed, and the wolf is very smug about how much he is pleasing his mate.

He can't help but smirk at the whine that comes from Stiles as he pulls away, quickly followed by the shocked gasp as Derek moves his mouth further down, licking everywhere. Derek moves his hands, using them to part the globes of Stiles ass, and slips his tongue along the crease there, swirling around Stiles' hole, before sliding it within.

“Look at you Stiles,” Derek voice is rough as he moves back to consider his handiwork. “All open and ready for me.” He slides a finger, and then two, into his husband, moving them back and forth, and then spreading them.

Stiles is writhing on the bed.

Derek reaches for the tube that he had purchased at the gifts shop downstairs, and spreads the oil on his fingers and then pushes them back within the human beneath him. At the same time, he leans forward and takes Stiles into his mouth once more, tasting the fluids leaking from the tip.

“Derek, Derek, I'm going to..” Stiles' voice is stifled by the fist he is biting down on.

Derek pulls away again, letting Stiles have a moment while he gets himself ready, coating his length before slowly sliding it into Stiles' tight hole, joining his body with his husband's.

Derek leans his body over Stiles, once he's fully within, and pulls that fist from Stiles' mouth, replacing it with his lips. Stiles wraps his arms around Derek, and they just kiss like that for a while.

Eventually, Derek has to move, and so he lifts himself up, hands wrapping around Stiles' hips once again. He rocks his own hips a few times, slowly, watching Stiles' face, waiting for the moment when discomfort changes to pleasure.

Shifting, Derek finds a certain bundle of nerves and Stiles jerks in his grasp and his eyes fly open.

“Oh my fucking god,” he babbles, reaching for Derek.

Derek can't help the smirk on his face, and he moves with intent now, pressing into that spot every time, and soon Stiles devolves into wordless moans. He reaches for his cock, but Derek smacks his hand away. He wraps his own hand around Stiles, sliding back and forth, using his supernatural abilities shamelessly to bring Stiles off a half-second before Derek follows his husband over that edge.

 

Derek slowly separates them, pulling out with a low groan and falling to the bed beside Stiles. He takes a few deep breaths and then turns his head to look at his husband.

Stiles is half-dozing, blissed out and Derek smiles softly, reaching an arm out, pulling him close. Stiles mumbles something about a shower. Derek shuts him up with a soft, lingering, tender kiss.

Stiles' eyes flutter open, full of dreamy wonder and then he suddenly flashes a grin.

“That was amazing, we need to do that again. A lot. ”

Derek burrows his head into Stiles' neck and chuckles.

“Oh we will. After all, we have forever.”

**Author's Note:**

> **Derek is pansexual in this fic. Stiles is grayromantic.**   
> 
> 
> Inspiration: Fast Car by Tracy Chapman
> 
> Please let me know if I need to tag anything else. <3
> 
>  
> 
> [Tumblr](http://goddessofcruelty.tumblr.com/)


End file.
